For those of you who knew I was having a tooth extracted today and also knew about my worries concerning whether I would live through it and also were under strict orders to destroy my hard drive before anyone could have a chance to find the porn I deleted last night but probably not permanently -- I lived.

Of course, there's a world of difference between being alive and living, and right now I can only claim being alive. I am probably not the most disgusting person alive (no, this guy is) (wow, did you really click on that? masochist), but I am right up there, what with the drooling blood and blood-crusted lips and bloody spit wads.

One positive aspect was the dentist claiming that my tooth was secretly a wisdom tooth, which I totally don't get since I already had four of those out, and I only had 28 teeth left. It seems that this tooth (bottom on the left, far back) would then be by default a molar. But whatever, we'll go with it. You see, in my own personal hierarchy of Medical Conditions and the Shame That Accompanies Them, needing to have a wisdom tooth out is far less shameful than having a molar out. A wisdom tooth extraction generally happens when you're young and suggests a coming of age; it's practically a John Hughes film. Having any other teeth out suggests hickishness and marriage to one's cousin Cletus. This fifth wisdom tooth hypothesis is further supported by the fact that one of my sisters actually does have five wisdom teeth, so I can claim a possible genetic predisposition. In short, if anyone at all asks, I'll be claiming this extraction as a wisdom tooth and that's that.

Any now, back to slurping up cherry Jell-O. I opted for the red so that I can maybe pretend my bloody drool is really Jell-O drool. Yummy either way!